WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. -- Most of the time I'm too busy to watch
TV, but the other night, I caught a new show on Showtime called
"The Big C."
The show stars Laura Linney as Cathy, a woman diagnosed with
metastatic melanoma. In a nutshell, Cathy uses her diagnosis as an
excuse to become a self-centered, indulgent woman.
In the episode I watched, she proclaims that she wants to eat
garlic and onions -- though she once avoided them to please her
husband. Now she doesn't care and eats with gusto.
In another scene, Cathy rudely notifies her neighbor that she
will not invite her over to swim in her pool because she's dying
and no longer needs to be nice to the people next door.
The show seems to be based on the theory that having a terminal
illness gives you the right to do whatever you want and get away
with it.
Not everyone agrees with me that, sick or not, you should be
polite. After polling a bunch of friends, about 30 percent thought
that a sick person has the right to say and do whatever he or she
wants, knowing time is limited. The others felt that societal mores
should be followed.
I feel the way I do because of my medical internship at George
Washington University. On the first day, I was introduced to Marta,
who was dying of leukemia.
She had brown skin burns all over from radiation and was bald
from chemotherapy. She was amazingly kind. I still remember the day
the nurses sent me in to draw her blood.
It was a standard hazing for the nurses to ask the newest doctor
try to draw blood on the sickest patients. The nurses figured I
would be back at the nurses' station in a few minutes empty-handed,
and they'd get a laugh out of it.
I approached Marta and asked her forgiveness for not knowing
what to do. She smiled, and she explained to me that she knew what
the nurses were up to and then she, the patient, taught me, the
intern, exactly how to get the blood.
When I brought the tubes out to the desk, the nurses looked
impressed.
For the rest of the month, I learned as much as I could from
Marta. Over and over, the patient taught the doctor -- with her
patience and her kindness.
During my final week on the rotation, Marta got a bad infection
in her sinuses, and she had no strength to fight it off. At
midnight, I went to check on her. One of the night nurses was in
the room and turned to me and said, "I was going to call you to
pronounce her."
I knew that meant I had to determine whether Marta was dead, but
I'd never done it or seen it done. I leaned over the bed and felt
for a pulse. There was none. I listened for a heart beat and heard
none. I tried rubbing the patient's sternum, a very painful
procedure that will awaken most people who are in deep sleep or
light coma. Nothing worked. Marta was gone.
I grimly declared to nobody in particular, "I pronounce you
dead." The nurse chuckled at me and left.
I started to cry, leaned over and whispered into Marta's
already-cool ear: "You didn't get a chance to teach me that."
Why do I think that Cathy will not be like Marta? Why can't
television sell a show based on a Marta instead of a Cathy? My
guess is that brash misbehavior sells a lot better.
Too bad. Marta will always be my role model.
Dr. Melanie Bone is a cancer survivor and gynecologist who
practices in West Palm Beach, Fla. To send questions for her Q&A
column, go to www.cancersensibility.org (there is a tab to contact
her for questions) or PalmBeachPost.com/health (click on the "ask
a question" link). Any questions submitted to Dr. Bone will be
considered for her column.
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